Understanding Amy: A Case Study on Amy Rose
by sonicawesome
Summary: "She cultivated hope when faith was dryer than desert sand. This gift brought her much trouble, and something tragic was beginning to take place. Her light was fading and she knew it." Amy Rose takes the brave initiative to seek therapy.


"It's just getting out of control, see?"

Her voice sounded so defeated, yet lively. Her sighs were from deep, sad parts of her being, but were somehow mixed with contentment. Perhaps it was denial of the present circumstances that created these sighs. She always seemed to live in a world all her own, with its own stories and perfect fairytale endings. Despite the years of neglect by the object of her intense desire, her eyes still shone with a childlike gleam. She was always quite the optimist. She cultivated hope when faith was dryer than desert sand. This gift brought her much trouble, and something tragic was beginning to take place. Her light was fading and she knew it. Fortunately, she had recognized the problem before she surrendered to the chaos that had been building in her soul since she was eight. Eight years of age was when she first laid eyes on the man of her dreams. This was ten years ago.

Her talents lied in the areas of determination, perseverance, confidence, charm, and ability to love in a way that most individuals could not begin to fathom or understand or look straight in the face of without squirming. She was an eccentric lioness. So she did what any lioness would do – she pursued. She met the man of her dreams and she pursued hard, raw and real. She pursued deeply, and deeper as time passed. She pursued to a fault, even when it was unwanted. The man to whom she tried to give this love gift rejected it again, and again, and again. He made her feel like too much or not enough most every time. And like love tends to do, she would get up and dust herself off, ignore the ever-forming pain inside of her soul, and carry onwards towards her prize – her thing to worship – him.

She was never the deepest thinker. One wonders what would have happened if she would have stopped to ponder why the attraction to this fellow was so powerful. It was some swelling of growing, pulsating hormones, welling up and bursting out as scents and looks and the sound of his voice came rushing together in a whirlwind and erupted like a volcano inside of her soul. This initial explosion was left unchecked and untamed and grew out of control. As a lioness, she pursued without thinking much. She knew what she wanted and her heart was beating and her mind was racing and painting pictures of her future wedding so she ran forward with full abandon. She kept running relentless even as he bruised her and pierced her and gnashed at her and she still wears all the scars. It is a good thing that she recognized the need to stop running. It is a miracle or perhaps a result of tired aging. A cycle that is spiraling out of all control is hard not to recognize after a while.

But this problem certainly has left her stunted in growth. Obsession is no understatement. Most people cannot keep a journal from start to finish but she has kept dozens – filled to bursting with comments and affirmations of him. His picture is plastered on her walls in the form of posters and polaroids. Birthday cards from him are cherished ritually. A stuffed replica of him lay upon her bed. (Note: he is something of a celebrity). But even this is nothing compared to the inner mania inside her head – with thoughts of him appearing in her head first thing in the morning and wooing her to sleep at night. This is her life. She is an addictive personality gone unchecked for far too long.

Her name is Amy Rose, and the object of her fascination: Sonic the Hedgehog. In pictures, they look like the sweetest couple. Her skin is the brightest of pinks, and his the deepest of blues. The perfect male/female pair. But the close friends who have entered and exited their lives with any amount of processing ability see the faults in the logic. She is obsessed with him, and he is obsessed with him. His ego is something of legend, only worsening as age and fame grip him tighter. Sure, they've had their soft moments together, where his guard is down and signs of mutual attraction appear on the surface. These moments are quite confusing for Amy. To him, they were lapses in judgment, and/or strange passing oddities that come and go throughout a lifetime. For her, they are moments to cling to, that give her intense hope in their future and in his love for her.

18 and she realized. She realized how her thoughts were consumed by zeal of him. She had not pursued any of her own hobbies or interests in years. Her life was completely swallowed up. Crazy, she thought, when she realized, that she had not noticed before. Was she blind? She felt slightly dumb. So many years consumed by this – could they be undone? She fatefully trudged into a certain woman's office, passionate as ever. This time though, the passion had been refocused. This time, she wanted to run towards freedom from this lovesick curse. But she also didn't. She still loved him. She still wanted him.

I'm this woman. This is my office. And this is the story of Amy Rose, and her journey from starry-eyed fangirl to – well, we'll see.

"So, Amy Rose," I stated, looking her straight in the eyes. She was quite pretty. Like I've mentioned, her eyes glowed with some sort of lovely innocence – I was hoping that introspection would not rob her of this. "You seemed adamant about coming to see me."

"Yes," she replied. "I have a problem."

"Ah," I answered. "Don't we all? Would you like to tell me about it?"

"Yes," she answered boldly, with the slightest bit of nerves. "I – wow, I didn't know this would be so embarrassing."

"Nothing that you could possibly say would surprise me." I wasn't lying.

"Okay. I guess I – have a problem with a boy."

"Are you in a relationship with this boy?"

"No – that's the problem. I want to be, but he doesn't. And I keep trying and he keeps saying no to me. It's so frustrating," she paused and looked down at her knees. "I guess I just can't stop thinking about him. It's just getting out of control, see?"

"I've counseled people with similar stories, Amy, so don't worry. How long have you known him?"

"About ten years."

"Ten years. Okay. And you've wished you were with him this whole time?"

"Yes. Yes. I love him," she said adamantly. "I love him. It hurts how much."

"Have you ever had any other relationships, Amy? Liked anybody else?"

She jumped out of her chair, knocking it backwards. In one swift motion her arm was held out as a hammer materialized into her hand. Her chest heaved up and down as anger and hurt pierced her facial expression. "No, never!" she seemed shocked. I had stricken a chord, clearly. "I could never be disloyal to my Sonniku!"

She sounded like a child. Her voice turned from a gentle, albeit higher pitched tone, into a shrill whine. I sat and stared at her, as calmly as possible.

"Amy, I'm sorry that I pulled on your heartstrings there," I spoke softly. It was not as if this was the first time I had been yelled at by a patient.

She looked at the hand that her hammer rested in and flushed bright red. It dropped to the floor and she sat back down. She murmured.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. No one has ever asked me that before."

"I'm surprised you don't have any female friends who have confronted you about this."

A look of remorse washed over the embarrassment. "I don't have many friends anymore."

"Why is that?" I asked, half thinking that I already knew.

"I guess," she started. Tears welled up in her eyes. She looked longingly at me. "I guess, I don't know! I just barely see anyone anymore."

"Do you not want to see them, Amy?"

"No – they don't want to see me. I barely see anyone!" she replied, tears still welling down her cheeks. "I don't know why!"

I felt pity deep within me for this young woman. Someone with such fragility, yet so much resolution to endure pain for love and hope's sake was a rare find. But with her addictive tendency, her channel for these traits were misled and wrongly executed at a very young, very delicate age. They were left unchecked, and they were now consuming her. I felt sad. The world had wronged her. Who was guiding her at age eight?

"Did you used to have friends?" I asked gently.

"Yes," she said, wiping her cheeks with her glove. "I used to have a really close friend group. Sonic was in it."

I now knew the boy's name – Sonic.

"I think he doesn't want me to be invited anymore. And my girlfriends don't ever really want to see me. I mean, sometimes Cream, but not as much as we used to…"

"Was Cream your closest friend?" I asked.

"Yes. I don't know what happened. She grew up, started dating Tails – er, Tails is another boy from my old friend group. It's all just…" she put both hands on the side of her shaking head. "So confusing!"

Amy was certainly emotional. Not a huge surprise from someone who felt so deeply. Whichever emotion she was feeling, she felt it very powerfully.

"You are a deep and passionate person, Amy. You just may not understand that yet. I'd love to talk to you more about this, but I think that's enough for now. I don't want to stress you out too much. I know this was a short first meeting, but that's okay. Let's think of it as an introduction."

"Okay," she replied. "But, please, tell me what you see! What can I do until I see you next?"

I pondered her perseverance to get well even through the pain. Reminiscent of her determination to pursue Sonic's love despite continual hurt. I was happy that she was channeling her energy in a much more positive way now, though. Even though I was being convinced that the road of understanding Amy would be a long one, I felt relief from her eagerness. Her passion to endure would be of great benefit in this journey. Actually, I was excited. She wanted to be taught. She wanted to change.

"Okay, Amy," I replied. "I just want you to begin thinking. Think of all the ways that this preoccupation with Sonic has been affecting your life. Your friendships, your career – anything that it has affected. We can talk about this when you come back." I paused. "I want to let you know, that I think this process is going to be a long one, so don't be frustrated if things don't change overnight. But I believe it will be worth it."

I waited for her response, quite honestly unsure of what she'd say.

"Okay!" she exclaimed. "Let's do this!"

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she was rushing out the door, without an appointment booked or fees discussed.

She would call the office later, I imagined.


End file.
